


(Not) Another Party Head

by frogfarm



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992), Dexter (TV)
Genre: F/F, fucking language its deb whaddya expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-06
Updated: 2011-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-20 21:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogfarm/pseuds/frogfarm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deb's not jealous. She's glad Faith and Dexter get along. But the more time they spend together, out on that boat, the more she wonders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Not) Another Party Head

**Author's Note:**

> Post-Dexter 5x05, "First Blood"; refs 5x09, "Teenage Wasteland". Thanks to [](http://sam-arkand.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://sam-arkand.livejournal.com/)**sam_arkand** for bunny and guidance.

> _There's nothing but chemistry here._

 

The first thing you have to understand about all of this, is that I'm straight. Til the day I die I'll keep saying it, yes I know how it sounds and can I get on with the fucking story thank you very much?

Yes, I always fucking talk like this.

So, rebellious. Neurotic. String of psychotic to ineffectual boyfriends, the most decent being a walking Elektra complex. (My last therapist taught me that one.) Over the last few months I've had to put my sister-in-law in the ground, watch my brother turn into a walking zombie, deal with a one day stand who's gone from clingy to twitchy, and work my ass to the bone on some crazed bullshit hit men who think they're voodoo priests. Or they want the poor bastards who have to live in this city to think it. Slit a kid's throat right in front of me, leave people to rot in their own homes and I'm just itching to find these guys so bad I can taste it.

Vince Masuka may be wrong about a lot of things. Hell, he's just wrong. But he's right about one thing.

Tequila helps.

And maybe it was the moon, I dunno. It was huge and awe-inspiring and just for a second it took my mind off all the crap. Then I went inside to breathe sweat instead of fresh air and hang out with my co-workers, who really are my family. But Angel was more depressed than usual, and Vince couldn't get even a little smile out of him, and I didn't want to deal with Quinn or go back to Dexter's place. Instead I sit out on the patio, try sipping for a change.

Whereupon -- I love that word -- along comes this brunette. Totally invading my space, just saunters right up and sits down across from me. I'm trying to figure out what the hell when she says, she's looking for my brother? Oh, well hallefuckinglujah. Half the time I don't know where he is. What am I, my brother's keeper?

Yeah. She thought that was good too.

So we bonded. I don't remember any of it because, you know, tequila? Plus I really don't get along with women in the first place, which makes all this double funny. Maybe ironic, I don't know. Maybe I was subconsciously thinking of that semi-sexy semi-skeezy tattoo artist hitting on me. All I remember is waking up with exploding head syndrome, rolling over and saying

 

**

 

"Mofucking Christ, I'm _straight!_ "

"Trust me." The brunette snorts, adjusting her tank top. "Under the skin? We're all bent."

"That was..." My mouth is a desert.

"Anything less than perfect, you'll hurt my feelings." Hottie finishes tucking her shirt in. A sudden look of guilt or regret crosses her face.

"Oh, shit." I fumble in vain for my underwear, which have migrated down the side of the bed by the wall, as post-coital underwear do. "Holy Jesus shit on toast...I fucking hate you Eileen..."

"Who's Eileen?" The brunette frowns, abruptly suspicious. "Please tell me it's not some retarded joke."

"Eileen Wurzel." I find my underwear and almost put them on backwards, maneuvering under the sheets until I can squirm everything properly square away, as she watches with growing amusement. "The first bitch at the academy to ever call me a dyke."

The smile vanishes. "Wait. I fucked a _cop?_ "

"Geez, judge much?" My irritation isn't enough to quell the dull but growing fire in my belly, as memories of the previous night start to filter back in. "We're not all jack booted thugs."

Her brow furrows deep. "I fucked a cop and I wasn't trying to get out of a summons?"

I choke on unexpected laughter. "I could write you up. How's speeding grab you?"

She raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Without a car."

I feel my smile grow crooked.

"I can be very creative."

 

**

 

What would you have called it? Wait -- not interested. I don't care what _you'd_ call it.

I called it a hot and heavy fucking affair.

I mean, since I went back for seconds.

 

**

 

"What's your brother do for fun?"

"Fun?" I trace patterns on her back, playing connect-the-scars. "Not a lot of fun for the Morgan family this year."

"You said he didn't get the kids." Faith rolls over, hands behind her head for maximum distraction. "Can't imagine bowling takes up all his time."

"He's a blood geek. His idea of a good time can get pretty messy." I grab her wrists and straddle her stomach. "Better watch it. I'll think you're just using me to get to him."

 

**

 

I knew Faith swung every which way and loose -- she said so herself. We weren't living together, we weren't even sleeping over, and we certainly hadn't sworn vows. All I knew was one minute her and Dexter were sniffing around each other like bitchy rabid wolves, to the point where I felt like I couldn't leave them alone in the same room, and when I turn around they've gone all BFF.

Of course she could tell, and she called me on it. So that didn't last long. Pretty silly of me to ignore all my instincts and be so bloody paranoid I could imagine them fucking. Even if they _did_ act like more of a married couple over breakfast than she and I probably would after a lifetime. Hell, I didn't know if she was going to be in Miami come next month. I was just taking it one day at a time.

Except the more time they spent together, out on that boat, the more I began to wonder.

 

**

 

"Jesus, who the fuck did this to you?"

"Taken care of." Faith has an iron grip on my arm, keeping me from the phone. "Now you take care of me. Unless you want me to go back to prison."

My hands struggle with alcohol and gauze and I curse my lack of girly skills. "Where the fuck is Dexter?"

"Don't worry. He's all right." Faith leans back in the chair and shuts her eyes. "Just cleanin' up."

 

**

 

Some part of me had to have known by that point. Or maybe I'm just making excuses. But we had Astor and running away and drinking and shoplifting, and Dexter's new blonde "tenant" giving me eighteen kinds of hairy eyeball. I hadn't worried about him sleeping with Faith in weeks. Too busy at work, plus trying to figure out just what they *were* doing.

Trust me to find out about the supernatural by busting in on it. And they would have to be the foulest, funkiest looking shit you can imagine, am I right? No nice clean vampire kill, or a cuddly werewolf. No, they're taking down this nest of demons with scabby scales, all bloated and oozing leper sores. Like a harpy fucked a hyena. And they're standing over the remains of these things covered head to toe in blood and God fucking knows what else, just staring back at me. Like I'm the crazy one? And Dexter has that stupid fucking look on his face again and opens his mouth and I swear if he says _I'm sorry, Deb_ I'm going to add his brains to the mix.

Except one of the things on the floor sits up.

Before I can blink I plant a bullet right between what I think are its eyestalks and it goes down like Pooh Bear. Thump, splat.

We stare at each other some more. Faith raises one eyebrow.

"Fuck me...up...my..."

I lean over and puke.

Then I think I pass out.

 

**

 

"And Lumen? She was a Slayer?"

"No. Lumen was just -- in trouble."

"I just --" I wring my hands with the urge to strangle him. "How the fuck could you _keep_ this shit from me?"

Faith and Dexter exchange wry glances.

"I didn't plan any of this." Dex has that little kid look, both hands red in the cookie jar. "It...sort of found me."

"Even though *you're* not a Slayer," I sniff. "Typical macho bullshit -- hold on." I fumble the phone open. "Hello?"

" _Deb?_ "

"Astor, what's wrong? Are you okay? Do you need to talk to Dexter?"

" _I just pulled the bumper off Grandma's SUV._ "

 

**  


**Author's Note:**

> Title from Twisted Sister, "Under the Blade".


End file.
